


i just want to speak (the pounding in my chest is out of time)

by ifthebookdoesntsell



Category: The Prom (2020), The Prom - Sklar/Beguelin/Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Comfort, F/F, Fluff, Reunions, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-18 18:02:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29861982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ifthebookdoesntsell/pseuds/ifthebookdoesntsell
Summary: Each day, the government has begun to allot only two hundred words to each citizen; Emma is unsure the reason, perhaps people had decidedly stopped listening to each other or somehow totally forgot how, but she finds that she doesn’t mind too much.Before the mandate, people spoke approximately seven-thousand words a day. They used them with a triviality: when they stubbed their toe, when they needed someone to hold the door for the elevator. Now, all are more observant of others, of the way silent communication often says far more.Like others, Emma has grown adjusted, found that this new version of life may be better, somehow, than what they had before, though she doesn’t if she’s really an accurate judge. She never enjoyed talking too much, not to anyone that wasn’t Alyssa, anyway. With Alyssa, she has a thousand things she would like to say, stories beyond anything she could ever say even with an unlimited quota.(Or, the government has started counting everyone's words, but Emma doesn't mind. All she wants is to talk to Alyssa.)
Relationships: Alyssa Greene/Emma Nolan
Comments: 11
Kudos: 42





	i just want to speak (the pounding in my chest is out of time)

**Author's Note:**

> hey y'all! happy friday! here's a little something i wrote a few nights ago when i was feeling emo and also thinking about something from my class. last week, my teacher asked us what we would do if we were only given two hundred words a day. he wrote something about it, saying that he would give every last one to us as his students, teaching with his words as much as he could. it got me thinking what i would do, what characters i love would do, and here we are. 
> 
> as usual, here's a [playlist.](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/07Th7HuMR34OZ9Yal1fTQL?si=FR_nLOEwS9a0KqvMPR7UBg)
> 
> i hope you enjoy. thanks for reading! 
> 
> (title from "speak" by ben abraham.)

Emma has one-hundred and twenty-three words left. 

She used as little as she could today, knowing full well that Alyssa is coming home from her business trip, that there are words to be exchanged in quiet, warm reunion, laughter to be shared that can only be brought out by the perfect usage of the syllables that remain. 

All day, she merely pointed where she could, ordering breakfast mutely, managing to spend most of the day playing at the piano and composing rather than participating in group writing sessions that may force her to speak. 

This is all because of the new way. 

Each day, the government has begun to allot only two hundred words to each citizen; Emma is unsure the reason, perhaps people had decidedly stopped listening to each other or somehow totally forgot how, but she finds that she doesn’t mind too much. 

Before the mandate, people spoke approximately seven-thousand words a day. They used them with a triviality: when they stubbed their toe, when they needed someone to hold the door for the elevator. Now, all are more observant of others, of the way silent communication often says far more. 

Like others, Emma has grown adjusted, found that this new version of life may be better, somehow, than what they had before, though she doesn’t if she’s really an accurate judge. She never enjoyed talking too much, not to anyone that wasn’t Alyssa, anyway. With Alyssa, she has a thousand things she would like to say, stories beyond anything she could ever say even with an unlimited quota.

It’s one of the reasons why Emma knows for sure that she’s going to spend every word she has left on Alyssa as soon as they see each other, knows that if she could, she would say nothing at all the whole day just so the woman could have all two-hundred.

Emma can’t help but marvel at the realization, at the notion that she would hand over all her words to one person without thought, but she supposes it’s also a way to know how truly in love she is. She smiles softly, rounding the last corner so that the door to their apartment is suddenly in view. 

She can’t wait to see Alyssa. It’s been so long since she’s held her properly. 

Gently picking up her pace, Emma pulls her keys free from her pocket, jangling them in her hand for a moment before she’s close enough that she can stick the right one in the lock and turn. 

As soon as she pushes the door open, Emma speaks for the first time since 3pm. 

“Alyssa?” 

“Here!” her lover calls from what sounds like the bedroom, and Emma follows the sound, basking in the comfort that is Alyssa’s voice. 

In the past weeks, she hasn’t heard her speak much; the woman’s job requires a lot of talking, so most of their phone calls while apart have consisted of staying on the line until the other fell asleep, urged toward sleep by the lullaby of the other’s breath. Just like now, that sort of silence felt so safe, felt gentle and enveloping and _warm._ Home has felt oddly cold without Alyssa’s presence. 

It’s why Emma can’t help the grin that spreads across her face when she finally catches sight of the woman, cozy in her pajamas and leaning against the pillows, swiping away at her phone. 

“Hi,” she whispers softly, imagining for a moment that if she says it quietly enough, the word won’t count. Still, she knows it does. 

“Emma,” Alyssa breathes, pretty and earnest. 

Emma knows what that means. 

Alyssa doesn’t have very many left. 

The blonde nods, crossing the space between them, shucking her jacket and tossing it onto the desk before she sits down beside the woman. 

“How many? 

Alyssa holds up seven fingers, regretful and apologetic. At her expression, Emma shakes her head, inching closer until they’re pressed close, until their noses are almost touching. When Alyssa places her hands back down, her right covers Emma’s left. Brown eyes meet hazel ones, exploring softly as Alyssa tries to say everything she can without a single word, with just a touch, with just a look. Emma’s pulse picks up its pace, beating quick and rough at the way they can communicate with only pauses, only breath and gentle, silent songs. 

Emma grows hotter the longer Alyssa’s gaze stays on her, flickering over her face, taking her all in, as if she might forget how she looks if she doesn’t commit every detail to memory once more. Dark eyes catch on the bow of pretty pink lips, and the blonde suddenly feels her heart in her throat, feels a shiver rush down her spine when Alyssa’s stare doesn’t leave, when she doesn’t tear herself away even as the seconds pile up between them.

“We can, if you want,” Emma murmurs.

Alyssa nods carefully, watching as the woman smiles back at her, leans forward until their lips can touch. 

For a moment, it stays soft, like a whisper of love in the dark, like the most quiet form of protest. But then, one of them presses forward-- it’s impossible to tell who-- and the chasm that has lain between them because of their distance from each other fills in an instant. Emma chases her lips with a fire, with a sureness, saying everything she knows is too much to actually speak. No word has ever felt wasted when with Alyssa, but Emma wants to have enough to declare the woman gorgeous, to insist and murmur her love.

In reply, Alyssa returns Emma’s fire with a similar heat, slipping her tongue into the kiss softly, urging herself forward until the woman is holding her cheeks with a delicacy that makes her feel strong and breakable all at once. Her heart stutters and starts inside her chest, a sort of wonderstruck dizziness floating through her. 

“I missed you,” she mumbles, positive that the words need to be said, cannot be a thought that sits in silence between them as other things do. 

The declaration weighs heavy on Emma, makes her blush as she pulls back. “I missed you too.” 

She means it. 

Alyssa knows this for sure. 

Emma kisses her again. She smiles as breath hitches against her lips. 

The sun has begun to set outside, free falling into the ground the way long-distance lovers such as they do after the drought of touch. Alyssa observes it for a moment, the way the golden hour light passes across Emma’s face, highlights every line, every curve, that makes her up. Quickly, suddenly, she finds herself drowning in this moment, in Emma’s atmosphere and her orbit, in her pull and the way it makes her feel the exact kind of lost that pushes her into realizing she doesn’t care if she’s never found, not as long as she’s with Emma. 

Hazel eyes reflect back brilliance as Alyssa gazes up into them, sees past their surface and manages to find her way to all of Emma’s beginnings and endings in this moment, manages to find every last word that cannot be said and then a way to make them echo through her. 

This time, she’s the one who initiates another kiss, sparking warmth between them as she presses Emma backwards into lying down, tangling their legs. Emma’s hands are rested on the curve of her hips as they stay sealed together, as they breathe each other in for the first time in weeks. The quiet of it is indicative of their love, of their comfortability that neither has used what they’ve been given for anything that didn’t have purpose. 

The words Alyssa says next mean the most because they’re her last of the day. 

“I love you, Emma,” she whispers, pressing their lips together again because there’s nothing else to be done anymore. She says _I love you_ so many times within it, repeats it with every move, with every back-and-forth touch of her thumb against Emma’s cheek.

“I love you too, ‘Lys,” Emma replies, smiling when Alyssa giggles as she tosses her gently next to her so that they can both lie on their sides and face each other since one of them can no longer speak. 

In the new position, they take the time to look at each other once more, appreciating the whispers of moon and stars they find in each other’s features now that it has grown shadowy out, noticing the new lines by the other’s eyes. 

Finally, Emma breaks the silence. 

“You’re so beautiful.” 

Alyssa blushes and shakes her head softly, averting her gaze.

Emma raises an eyebrow in playful, earnest challenge. “I’m the one with the words here,” she teases. 

Her heart soars a little when the joke makes Alyssa smile. It empowers her to continue. She doesn’t care how many words she has to use to say what she feels, not now, not now that it’s the end of the day, not now that Alyssa has used up all her words finding her way home, not now that she may finally say all she’s been thinking in person with Alyssa right beside her as she always should be. 

“And because I’m the one with the words, you have to listen.” Her voice is softer this time, more filled with hope and honesty. Emma reaches forward, pressing a hand to Alyssa’s cheek, melting further when her lover nuzzles against it. “Look at you. You’re so beautiful.” 

Alyssa looks down this time but doesn’t disagree, only lets out a shaky breath. 

Emma knows there’s a silent question there. She answers it: “I promise. I promise that it’s true. Please believe me, love, okay? I mean it.” The woman trembles at that, and it makes Emma press closer until she can put her forehead against Alyssa’s. Softly, she whispers the promise once more. “You’re beautiful.” 

Again, a gentleness overtakes them, one filled with simultaneous heat and coolness, one that puts them at ease as they do nothing but hold each other’s gazes. They have grown so used to being alone together because of how far away they’ve been, settling for hours of phonetime where they were working separately, but now, it feels as though they will never be alone, never be lonely again. 

Emma hopes Alyssa never has to go away again. 

Alyssa doesn’t need to say anything at all to communicate just how much she agrees. 

She shivers at the darkness in Emma’s eyes when she properly studies them once more, seemingly sure and unsure at the same time as she notices that their color matches that of the nightfall that has long painted over the day. 

There is so much she wishes to say, now, so much that she quite literally can’t. 

It pains her that she wasted another day of words, that she couldn’t save and give hers to Emma the way her lover had.

Tomorrow, she will be better. Tomorrow, every last one will belong to Emma if Alyssa has anything to say about it. 

She cannot wait for it to be a new day, cannot wait to tell the woman good morning as light spreads through the room, as they hold each other and warmth sits firmly, wonderfully, between them. 

Emma seems to sense her longing, notices the gentle way Alyssa’s eyelids have begun to droop from exhaustion, too. 

“Tired?” she asks softly, kissing the woman’s forehead. 

Alyssa nods, suddenly aware of it as she rubs her eyes. Absently, easily, she snuggles closer to Emma. 

Emma’s heart settles in her chest at the move. She was always worried things may be different when Alyssa returned, that they may not snap back together right away. But they have. It’s almost as if they’ve picked up right where they left off. 

Suddenly, Emma can’t help the way this new consciousness, new affirmation of how well they fit, sings through her body, her mind, her soul remembers. They have been by each other’s side for no more than an hour, but they are fully tangled up in each other, wound around each other in perfect form. 

Noticing her lover has begun to doze, Emma can’t help but smile, preparing to use her remaining words on Alyssa as she always does at the end of the day if the woman has no more. 

She begins softly. “I love you.” Something unnameable flickers through her when she feels a gentle smile against her neck. “I love you,” she repeats, more emphatically this time, reaching up to rub a hand through Alyssa’s hair, against her scalp. She kisses her forehead. “I love you.” 

And on it goes, far into the night, long after Alyssa has fallen asleep. Each iteration of _I love you_ is different; each holds its own perfect meaning. 

By the end, Emma has whispered the phrase twenty and two-third times, the last _you_ remaining stuck on the inside of her throat though it practically rings through the room despite its inaudibility. 

By the end, Emma’s given Alyssa every last bit of two hundred, is able to find satisfaction in her ability to save, in the fact that one of them had enough to speak at the end of the day after the other had a long, hard day. 

By the end, Emma still means every bit of the words _I love you_ and then some, means them more than even seven thousand extra could say, means them more than if she had an infinite number. 

Besides, perhaps it’s better this way, that Emma cannot let it fall from her lips more often. She would never tire of saying it, and she knows Alyssa would never tire of hearing it, but there’s a romance, a solemnity, a devotion to crafting their most silent days in order to have a love filled night, to their last words before dreams being a perfect, measured affirmation of what they share. 

Before she drifts off, Emma has the stray thought that she’s adjusting well to the new way for sure, that especially now, she appreciates her heightened ability to listen, softly awestruck as she always is by the unmatched rhythm and melody of Alyssa’s breath, by the understanding that she does not wish for more words at all, only that she have a day where every single one-- and all of the pauses and spaces between, too-- can be given to the woman she is so in love with that what they have is best seen in the way she holds her, in the way chaos and calm and all that has gone unsaid swirls around them until it is given voice, until the silence whispers it for them, sympathetic that their utterances will have to wait until tomorrow. 

Emma is so in love with Alyssa that in this world-- and likely all others, as she is quite certain that she is meant to be Alyssa’s in every universe no matter the challenge-- a quantification of how much is unspeakable, easier to illustrate in a lack of words, in the fact that they are two of the few in the increasing, oddly simultaneous deafening and loneliness of Earth who really know how to listen to each other. 

**Author's Note:**

> hey there! thanks for reading! what did you think? if you enjoyed, consider letting me know by dropping a comment/kudo down below. i love hearing from y'all. it always makes my day. 
> 
> as always, if you wanna chat some more you can find me on tumblr @ifthebookdoesntsell. my askbox is always open for whatever's on your mind. 
> 
> be safe out there x


End file.
